


Out of Darkness, Light

by Nerys (Depressed_Elf)



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Ritual, Dubious Consent, F/M, Impregnation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Elf/pseuds/Nerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Morrigan proposes her dark ritual, Tabris sees an opportunity for something she thought she’d lost -- something that will keep Alistair by her side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Darkness, Light

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe it's just because I'm an infertile woman, but the main thought running through my mind during the Dark Ritual was that I don't care if Alistair sleeps with Morrigan or what Morrigan does, as long as she shares her magic fertility spell with a couple of probably infertile Wardens. This fic grew out of that thought. It's my first _Dragon Age_ fic, so if I've screwed anything up horribly please, please tell me and I'll fix it.
> 
> Warning: dubcon, since Alistair isn't aware of what Tabris is planning. Also, getting pregnant to save a relationship IRL is a terrible idea, but this is fiction, &c., &c.

“You know how to make a Grey Warden have children?”

There were other words in Morrigan’s proposal: something about a child with the soul of an old god, something about Morrigan needing to sleep with Alistair. They all seem unimportant next to this sudden realization.

“‘Twould be a pointless exercise if I did not.” Morrigan sounds amused, but Shauna doesn’t care that it’s at her expense.

“If I ask Alistair to do this, will you...” She swallows. “Will you help me conceive his child?”

Morrigan is silent for a moment, and then she laughs. “I hardly expected such _ambition_ from you. I must say, I am glad you could surprise me. Fine, then, I agree. If you help me in this, you can have your half-elven bastard to hold over the king’s head.”

“It wouldn’t -- “ Shauna bites her lip to stop the words from tumbling out. _It wouldn’t be a bastard._ Alistair said he needed a wife to bear his child -- an heir to the throne. Once the archdemon is defeated, there will be no shortage of fertile human noblewomen vying for a place at the king’s side, and in his bed. And no matter how Alistair swore that he would always love her, Shauna could never be more than the knife-ear mistress he pulled out of the gutter, who could be sent back there again if his wife or his advisors protested too much.

“You would be queen, then,” Morrigan says softly. Her voice holds none of the mocking tone Shauna expected, but instead, something akin to _respect_.

“I don’t care about being queen,” she protests, but she does, just a little bit. An elven mistress is something accepted of any human noble -- whether the elf wishes it or not, she thinks bitterly. But an elven queen... that would be an inspiration. A sign that things are changing. That neither she nor her people can simply be used and cast aside.

It’s not as important, right now, as simply the thought of being with Alistair, of his being able to call her his love without hiding, without being ashamed. They’ll have thirty years before they’re called to the Deep Roads, but it seems like such a short time, and she can’t bear the thought of not spending it together.

“I don’t want to _lose_ him,” Shauna says, and Morrigan nods and smiles, and seems to understand what’s been left unsaid.

\----

She doesn’t tell Alistair everything. Morrigan’s ritual would let them live, she says, and that’s enough. He accepts it, because he can’t bear the thought of living without her any more than she can bear to lose him.

Afterwards Shauna finds Alistair alone, bathing, a look of frustration on his face, his skin red, as if he’s been trying to scrub every trace of Morrigan from his body.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes downcast, refusing to meet hers. “I didn’t realize how... I never want to... to _touch_ another woman other than you...” She wants to reassure him, tell him that he doesn’t have to, but part of her doesn’t want to get his hopes up in case the plan doesn’t work -- and part of her is afraid he won’t agree if he knows what she’s planning to do.

And so she kisses him silently and climbs into the water with him, hoping to give him a better memory of a last touch before battle. Something they’d both be satisfied with if they didn’t make it out alive.

\----

Soon the archdemon is dead, and they both still live.

Morrigan, true to her word, doesn’t disappear in the aftermath of the battle, but waits until that night. She comes to Shauna, performs her ritual. More dark magic Shauna doesn’t understand, and doesn’t want to.

“You must go to him tonight,” Morrigan says, “without delay.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” asks Shauna as she pulls her dress back on.

Morrigan shrugs. “I have done as I promised. ‘Tis all I can do. Do not think to come looking for me. I will make sure I cannot be found.”

“Thank you, Morrigan,” Shauna says, and although the witch scowls, the irritation doesn’t reach her voice.

“Go. And good fortune to you.”

Shauna goes to Alistair, and she can feel the conflicting emotions in his touch. Joy that they’re still alive. The love and passion they feel for each other. Regret that their lives must go on. That this is the last night they can pretend they are nothing more than Grey Wardens, and that soon he may be forced to let her go.

He releases his seed inside her, and she imagines she can feel it taking root, growing in her womb even as he holds her to drift off to sleep.

“I love you,” she tells him, and strokes his hair. “Everything will be all right.” He seems to accept it as a platitude, a comforting lie. She wants to tell him it’s more than that, but she can’t. Not now.

\----

She waits two weeks before she asks Wynne to confirm what she’s already sure of: she’s pregnant. Wynne doesn’t approve, knows something’s not quite right about it, but mercifully, she doesn’t lecture. All she says is that Shauna should wait another month or two before telling anyone. Babies are fragile in those first few weeks, she warns, and Shauna understands the concern: if she tells Alistair, and then miscarries, will he think she made it all up just to keep him?

But she can’t afford to wait. Arl Eamon is already pushing eligible young ladies at Alistair, trying to force a decision the king clearly doesn’t want to make. Eamon warned Shauna to stay away. It’s all right if the king has a mistress, he told her sternly, but Alistair needs to find a queen, and they need to show some _discretion_.

When she sneaks into Alistair’s room at night, he pins her against the wall, and she can feel how much he’s missed her. He gasps her name, whispering into her ear promises that he loves her, that he never wants her to stay away again, no matter what Arl Eamon or anyone else says.

“I need to tell you something,” she says later, when they’ve finally made it to the bed and he’s curled up, pressed against her back, strong arms holding her close. “I’m with child,” she whispers. “Your child.”

He sits up. “What?” And recovers quickly. “Maker, that’s _wonderful_!” Whatever misgivings he may have had about Wardens having children, this sudden reality chases them away. He kisses her until she can’t breathe, then pulls back, a trembling hand on her stomach. “How far along? I... I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shakes her head. “Just two weeks,” she says, and waits as he counts backwards.

“So the night I... with Morrigan?” His face, buried in her shoulder, is hot with embarrassment. “Or after? Oh, Maker’s Breath, if it had something to do with Morrigan I... I’ll have to _thank_ her...”

Shauna holds back a sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Let him think it was Morrigan, some side effect of her ritual. It’s close enough to the truth.

Alistair doesn’t wait for an answer from Shauna, if he even suspects she has one. Instead, he scrambles to kneel at the foot of the bed and take her hand. They must look terribly silly like this, she thinks, naked and red-faced and sweating, but he’s just so endearing and _Alistair_ that she has to smile.

“Marry me,” he pleads. “Be my wife. Be my queen. No one can argue with it; not now.” Now that she carries his heir.

She squeezes his hand, and there are tears in her eyes. “All I want is to be with you until we die.”

\----

They can’t avoid a scandal, not entirely, not with the king marrying a pregnant elf, but Alistair insists on getting his way. And although there are whispers about the _convenient timing_ of it all, they eventually die down, just as Alistair promises.

Shauna never sees Morrigan again, though she sometimes wonders about Alistair’s other child. Wonders, when she feels the babe move within her, if Morrigan feels the same love for her child, or if this reborn god is no more than a tool to her, a means to gain power.

Their child is born in winter. He looks like Alistair -- a blessing, considering that some must doubt his parentage. Shauna wonders if he might look more like an elf as he grows older, but even if he doesn’t, he’ll know where he came from. As she and Alistair hold the child in their arms, not even a day old, she’s already certain their son will make a fine king when they’re gone.


End file.
